The Shadow Returns
Though it was the warm season of spring, the sky stretched high as in autumn, so vividly blue it stung the eyes.
As if to prove that spring had truly arrived, the trees that had lain dormant all winter began one by one to unfurl their green leaves, and gentle breezes blew warm at morning and evening alike.
The people of Sayron, capital of the Lowes Empire, busied themselves with the farming and trade they had let pile up, moving with a vigor that seemed designed to erase the scars of war.
Three seasons had already passed since the former Emperor had died in the war against the neighboring nation of Yospanel and the Crown Prince had ascended the throne.
Now that the Emperor, who had once seemed so young, had married, and the Empress—daughter of an Archduke—was even with child, the once-shaken empire had settled into a measure of stability.
People's faces were full of hope for the future to come, and that hope suited the budding season perfectly.
But there was one person alone who matched neither the warm spring sunlight nor the bright faces of the people.
A single knight in full-plate armor, visor lowered, was spurring her horse at a gallop through the city streets.
The townsfolk watched the knight as she tore through the dust with puzzled eyes.
Yet the knight rode on with all her strength as though those gazes did not exist, and only when she reached the gates of the Imperial Palace did she begin to slow.
When she presented her credentials, the gatekeepers guarding the palace quickly cleared a path.
She passed through the gates and kept riding until she arrived at the main palace where the Emperor resided; only then did she dismount.
As she removed her helm, flowing silver hair spilled down and glittered in the sunlight.
Jet-black eyes, and long lashes that cast shadows across her face.
No one could have imagined such a face hidden beneath a helm of steel.
The knight handed her helm and longsword to a waiting maid and strode into the palace with long, brisk steps.
She climbed the stairs, passed down a long carpeted corridor, and came to a stop before a massive door.
Outside the air was warm, but inside the high-ceilinged stone palace a chill still lingered.
After a short wait, the door opened from within and the knight entered. A servant stepped out and shut the door behind her.
With the heavy boom of the closing door, silence descended upon the room.
Hair sweeping to her waist, the knight moved inside.
Where she entered was the Emperor's study.
Tapestries and portraits of past emperors hung upon the walls, and sunlight poured in through the great windows.
Emperor Franz Roheas, seated at the large, sturdy desk by the window, looked up.
A few strands of fine brown hair had fallen across his forehead, and eyes as clear and blue as the Profonder Sea that encircled the empire were fixed upon the knight.
He was strikingly handsome, marked by a high-bridged nose, sharply cut eyes, and a chiseled jawline.
"Was today the day you were due back?"
The Emperor said it as he rose from his seat.
His was a deep, low voice, and beneath its dependable weight a trace of gladness showed—though his expression remained cold.
The knight was not short herself, yet the Emperor stood a full head taller, so that his mere presence bore down upon the room.
"Tomorrow, Your Majesty. I heard news I could not make sense of, and returned as quickly as I could."
The knight spoke calmly, but her voice trembled almost imperceptibly.
The Emperor came out from behind the desk and walked slowly toward her.
The spring sunlight streaming through the window cast a deep shadow across him instead.
"News you could not make sense of. And what would that be, Daisy Alpina Rainer?"
It was rare for the Emperor to call her by her full name.
Which meant, presumably, that her behavior just now had displeased him.
Daisy squeezed her eyes shut.
There was something she had to do, even if it meant provoking the Emperor's ire. Something she simply had to confirm.
"I heard that Her Majesty the Empress is with child. The rumor has spread all the way to Lanke in the north."
Daisy lifted her head and looked at the Emperor.
She did not flinch from his gaze as it bore down upon her.
Those blue eyes were transparent enough to peer into the abyss itself, yet unlike his eyes, the Emperor never revealed what lay within his heart.
This was why she had braved the cold and exhaustion of the snowbound north, where she had staked her life hunting demonic beasts, and ridden like a madwoman to reach the palace a single day sooner.
The rumor that the Empress was pregnant.
And Daisy had needed to know whether it was true.
The Emperor gave no answer.
He simply looked at her, offering nothing at all.
What that meant—what that unchanging expression was trying to say—Daisy could not tell.
"Is it true?"
So she asked again.
Without even knowing what answer she wished to hear.
"It is true."
The Emperor's answer was short and clean.
Daisy clenched her fist.
It was a hand still stained with the dried, crusty blood of demonic beasts she had never finished wiping away, and crisscrossed with wounds from something's claws.
For the first time, the Emperor's gaze shifted—to that hand, and not to her black eyes.
"I thought it was a marriage of politics."
Daisy forced the words out, swallowing hard.
She had tried to hide it, but her voice had begun to tremble beyond concealment.
"It was a marriage of politics."
The Emperor's gaze remained fixed on her hand.
"I did not know such things were included in a marriage of politics."
The words were steeped in open reproach.
For the Emperor's own knight to show resentment toward him was a blasphemy that could be punished as a crime.
But Daisy had no room left to care about such things.
"It is a marriage, all the same."
The Emperor answered on, as though such concerns did not touch him in the slightest.
"What happened to your hand?"
And before Daisy could speak again, he asked it.
Only then did Daisy look down at her own hand.
The blood of demonic beasts, and the cuts left by their claws, were plain to see.
"It's nothing."
"That blood—"
"Have your feelings become genuine, Your Majesty?"
"…"
When Daisy cut him off, clasping her hands behind her back to hide them, the Emperor fell silent.
Instead, he looked at her with piercing intensity.
"Genuine feelings?"
"You said you would take her hand for a time, to strengthen the throne. That is what you said at the wedding."
"…I did."
"And yet the situation now is—"
"Are you asking as a knight with legitimate doubts, or do you mean something else?"
The Emperor cut across her words and struck straight to the heart of the matter.
Daisy could not bring herself to answer that question.
The reason she had been able to steady her heart when the Emperor announced his marriage was that he had summoned his close aides and hammered it in: this marriage was nothing more than a political arrangement.
When the Emperor showed tenderness to the Empress within the palace, she had endured it by telling herself it was only politics.
When the Empress smiled her angelic smile with that ever-gentle face, and when the servants of the palace sang in unison about how devoted Their Majesties were to one another, she had held on with that single phrase.
But the result of it all was the Empress's pregnancy.
And Daisy had no right whatsoever to resent the Emperor.
She was, after all, nothing more than the Emperor's knight.
Because beyond guarding him and rendering faithful service, she was permitted to desire nothing else.
The Emperor's knight was merely a shadow that protected him—she must neither reveal her existence nor harbor any other heart.
"…I have overstepped. Forgive me."
Daisy dropped to one knee and bowed her head.
The Emperor stepped closer and lowered himself to meet her eyes.
"There is nothing in this world I trust more than you. You are my knight, the one I can entrust my back to, the single person to whom I can show everything I am. Never forget that."
Daisy understood the meaning beneath the words.
It means I am only his knight—at best, no more than a friend. That fact will never change, and I will never be his first.
Daisy bit her lip and gave a small nod.
It was the only thing she could do right now.
"Stand."
The Emperor said it as he rose, and Daisy rose with him, standing once more before him.
"The situation with the demonic beasts?"
"Not good. The two of us—Matheus and I—can barely hold the line. The soldiers of Lanke are fighting alongside us, but their numbers keep growing. We need reinforcements. If this continues, they will push all the way to Sayron."
Daisy delivered the report in a flat, emotionless voice, unlike before.
"Go see the Archduke and request troops."
The Archduke was the Empress's father—and the Emperor's father-in-law.
Feeling her heart begin to ache, Daisy nodded once more.
"…Go and rest. But get those wounds treated first."
Daisy bowed in salute and left the study.
Only emptiness filled her heart.
So this was all the result of riding day and night without rest.
Daisy walked with no destination in mind.
And then she entered her own room at the far end of the corridor.
It was a small room with nothing but a bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.
Without even removing her armor, Daisy collapsed onto the bed.
It felt as though everything inside her was draining away.
Daisy closed her eyes.
If only she could fall endlessly into the dark like this, and never return here.
If only she could fall asleep like this, and never wake again.
Daisy prayed that worthless prayer over and over.
"The Archduke has departed for Sayron."
Verdi Urde, the Emperor Franz's strategist, spoke from beside him as the Emperor worked through his correspondence.
"Michael Amesis is? Why, all of a sudden?"
Franz asked, scowling.
"Word of Her Majesty's pregnancy, apparently."
When Verdi answered with a faint note of reproof, as if to ask whether that truly required explanation, Franz gave a belated "ah" of recollection and returned his attention to the petitions the nobles had submitted.
"I was going to send a letter, but since he's coming anyway, I'll settle accounts about the troops meant for Lanke when Michael Amesis arrives. He hasn't sent even half the soldiers he promised when I married the Empress."
"He has not. He keeps putting it off, day after day, with every excuse under the sun—the forces aren't ready, they lack the skill to handle the demonic beasts, and so on."
Verdi made no particular effort to hide his hostility toward the Archduke.
Michael Amesis, Archduke and lord of Dafke, the most fertile land in the southern Lowes Empire, had agreed to provide troops for the beast-plagued north in exchange for making his daughter Empress—yet after sending soldiers only a handful of times, he had offered every manner of excuse ever since.
Indeed, the reason the former Emperor had lost his life in the war against Yospanel owed much to Michael Amesis, who had withheld his armies at the critical hour and guarded his own interests.
He had not wanted the war fought on his own territory, and so he had refused to release his troops when it mattered.
The reason Franz had married the daughter of such a base man anyway was that Michael Amesis was the empire's sole Archduke, and his domain of Dafke possessed rich fertile land and the largest port in the empire, making it immensely wealthy—which meant he could bend every noble in the realm to his will.
Franz Juligen Roheas had won great distinction on the battlefield and in the hunt against the demonic beasts, but in proportion he had little practical experience governing the empire.
Moreover, as his nickname from his days as Crown Prince—the Cursed Crown Prince—made plain, not many of his subjects supported him.
And so, after ascending the throne, he had married Michael Amesis's daughter as a stratagem to consolidate imperial authority.
"And Daisy. Has she been examined by a physician?"
Franz asked it in passing, as though it were an afterthought, still buried in his work.
"She met with Sarura Maga this morning, but he reports he never laid eyes on so much as a single strand of Lady Daisy's hair."
Verdi said it with perfect ease, as though he understood Franz's intent completely.
As if he already knew exactly how Franz would react to those words—and was rather enjoying the show.
"Ha."
As expected, a long sigh escaped Franz's lips.
"Tell the physician that if he doesn't treat Daisy's wounds—by force if necessary—he'll be thrown out of the palace."
"It's poor Sarura Maga who's caught in the middle of it all, but in any case, I shall deliver the message."
Verdi bowed his head and slipped out of the study before Franz could say anything more.
The door closed, and Franz turned his gaze to the sunset dying outside the window.
The expression that had crossed Daisy's face when he told her the Empress's pregnancy was true would not leave his mind.
Why had he been unable to give Daisy the answer she wanted?
Franz rose from his seat and stood by the window.
The setting sun was dyeing the whole world red.